Such Great Heights
by Arandomchan
Summary: AU, BL, OmixKen Omi goes on a blind date. Omi avoids blind date at school at all costs. Somehow they still manage to get together.
1. Chapter One

^^  I watched this movie called _All Over the Guy_, about two guys who go on a blind date, and they think they hate each other, and their best friends fall in love and get married – they (the two guys) see each other again at a flee market, get to talking, and eventually have sex, but one of them 'officially hates any guy he likes'.  So the relationship gets sticky, after that.  Anyway.  I decided to use the idea, and many of the events, from the movie for an OmixKen story.  Oh, and Ken's a Jock, and Omi's a Goth.  Weird mix, huh? 

_Not only do I own Weiss Kreuz, but also my microwave as well_.

Summary:  _Fixed up on a blind date shot to hell, Omi recognizes his 'date' at school during senior year – now he has to duck into classrooms, run around corners, and lock himself in closets to avoid him_!  _But fate seems to enjoy toying with him_...  _Problem after problem seems to rise up, throwing the two boys together in the oddest situations_. (this may or may not contain lemon... I'm leaning towards 'May DEFINATELY contain lemon'... O.o)

Such Great Heights 

By Ayanagami

~

_I am thinking it's a sign_

_That the freckles in our eyes_

_Are mirror images_

_And when we kiss they are perfectly align_

-Such Great Heights, first verse, by Postal Service

~

There are two serious kinds of blind dates.

There is the blind date in which the two participants hit it right off, which is good for them.

Then there is the blind date in which the two hate each other.  As in, they don't click, they have nothing in common, and one or both of them are thinking '_What the hell did my friend think I had in common with this person_?'

Omi was thinking this right now, staring at the marble table in the cafe he was in.  One of his hands played with the cup of coffee he had been nursing for ten minutes, since his first, last, and most likely only order.  

The boy opposite him was having just as much trouble, gazing out the window and stirring his drink absentmindedly.  It was like both of them wanted to be someplace else, but couldn't get the courage to just walk out, or even excuse themselves.

_Oh, man,_ Omi thought to himself morbidly, _it's like we're mute to one another – how could Yohji think I'd like this guy_??  _He's a **soccer player** for god's sake_!  _I'm the most anti-sports person I've ever met_....  _And he doesn't even know how to turn on a computer_!

Omi stifled a sigh, glaring at his coffee like it was the source of all evil.  He'd never been on a more boring date.  He chewed on his bottom lip, risking a glance up, watching the other boy staring uninterestingly out the window, still.  Omi shook his head, seeing as he had nothing much to loose.

"So, uh," Omi fumbled for something to ask, anything to say, "you like...."  _Think, **think**_!  _Not books, this guy doesn't look like he's ever picked up a book of his own free will in his entire life_...  Omi let his mind fly in circles, rummaging through his brain in hopes a topic might surface... "movies?"

Ken blinked at him once he turned to face Omi again, still looking rather blank.  He shrugged, murmuring, "Yeah, I like movies."

**_Finally_**, Omi sagged mentally, then tossed another question into the floundering gap between them.  "What kind?"  _Probably action_...  _Like, Terminator or something_.  Omi silently snorted, keeping his less than desirable comments to himself.

"Mmm...  Horror."  Ken replied, frowning.  "I like Sci-fi, Fantasy, that kind of stuff."

_Whoa_.  _Fantasy_?  _Well, Horror's close enough, anyway_.  "Really?"

"Yeah.  I really like vampire movies."

This time, Omi couldn't hold back a soft laugh, though he clamped his hand over his mouth quickly, lest he offend his date.

"What?"  Ken asked, blinking, halfway confused, halfway stung.  "What's wrong with vampires?"

"Nothing...  Nothing," Omi assured him, smiling a little, "it's just that you don't seem the vampire type – you know, most vampire fans are pale, wear all black, antisocial."

Ken frowned.  "I don't buy into that crap; you don't have to look the part to be it."

"But you do."  Omi said, then mentally cursed himself.  _Great, I'm an idiot_...

"Huh?  What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you're a soccer player – and you _look_ like a soccer player."  Omi answered truthfully, "You're tan, and you have the muscles."

"Muscles?  Anyone can have muscles."

"Well, yeah, but you have _soccer_ muscles.  Your legs, basically.  All that running around, it shows."

"Oh."  Ken looked confused, as if he didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved.  

"Well, anyway..." Omi couldn't think of a way in which he could steer the conversation in a different direction; racking his brain, he still came up empty handed.

"What's yours?"  Ken asked, blithely unaware of the fact that he'd just done what Omi's intent had been.

"Huh?  My...?"

"Your favorite kind of movie?"

"Classics.  I like some Drama, too."  Omi answered automatically, leaning against his seat and sipping his cool beverage.

"Drama?"  Ken asked, making a face.  "How can you stand to sit through a bunch of people running around talking to each other, and nothing exciting ever happens?  It's like...  Soap Operas on film," After a moment, Ken added, "Well, it figures, I guess."

Omi bristled.  "That is _not_ what Drama is about.  Drama's about _life_.  And what do you mean 'it figures!?'"

"Uh, yeah, sure, some _life_."  Ken retorted, rolling his eyes.  "How many people have their babies stolen?  How many girls are all in love with the same man, who happens to be a convict?  How many people fall in love with their brother and not even know it until they give birth?  It's a load of _crap_."

"Drama isn't about _that_.  Whatever _you're_ watching is narrow-minded.  As I've said, Drama is about _life_.  Not about chaos and crazy things that could never happen.  And _what_ do you mean about 'it figures'!?"  Omi demanded, feeling himself getting angry.

"Sheez – I said 'it figures' because you look like a _girl_.  What?"  Ken answered, huffing.

"_I look like a **girl**_?"  Omi bridled at the comment.

"Yes!"

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?!"

"Cause _girls_ like Drama and _Romance_."

"And I _never_ said that I like Romance."

"Drama is just _like_ Romance, though."

Omi bit back a reply, seeing where this was going – _nowhere_.

"Never mind."  He rose, digging into his pocket for some money and tossing out a crumpled ten.  "I'll pay – it was nice meeting you, Ken, maybe I'll see you around."

Then Omi left, seething at Yohji.  This was the _last_ time that guy set him up on a blind date....  

*

"Didn't go well?"  Yohji commented as Omi flung himself on the other boy's bed, too despairing to glare at him properly at all.

"Not in the _least_."  Omi groaned, finally, as he turned onto his back.  "God, first it was boring, then we got into this _stupid_ fight of movies...  Dear god, Yohji, why'd you pick _him_?  We have _nothing_ in common.  I don't think he's even _gay_!"

Yohji blinked.  "Um, I'm pretty sure he's gay...  and isn't that enough for you to have in common?"

"NO!"  Omi cried and flung a pillow at him.  "_He_ plays soccer, and _I'm_ a computer freak!  _He_ doesn't know where the on switch is, and _I_ couldn't kick a ball to save my life!  Don't _ever_ set me up again!"

They were both silent for a while as Omi caught his breath.

"You sure?"  Yohji asked, finally.

"...  Well...  he _was_ really good-looking....  I mean...  _really_...  good...  No!  No more blind dates!"

Yohji sighed and shook his head, still lounging on his desk.

"Whatever – I'm sure you'll find a boyfriend when school starts up again...."

Which reminded Omi...

"Shit!  I have to get my schedule!"  Omi cried, running out of Yohji's room.

*

"Mmmm...." Omi groaned desolately.  The first day of his senior year sucked already.  Someone had thought it would be funny to trash the computer room – probably one of those damn, dumb jocks – so his computer class was spent doing _bookwork_.  Ugh!

English was chaotic – first, the teacher didn't show up for the first twenty minutes, in which the rest of the class had decided that this meant a free for all.  The jocks he actually made it into the class bullied people around, and the kids in the back, usually troublemakers, anyway, wadded up paper and threw the projectiles at girls, and, or, geeks.  A few hit Omi, but once the Goth gave them a good glare, they shrank from doing it again.

When the teacher did show up, she seemed confused, and more interested in the television habits of the students than anything else, like teaching.  She especially wanted to know if anyone watched X-files.

Trig and Home Economics were horrendous, both with old, droning teachers that bored Omi to death, and managed to lull half the class to sleep.  

It was now lunch, and it was all Omi could do to pull out his hair in frustration.  He figured that if the rest of the year was modeled after the first day, he was, to put it eloquently, screwed.

Sitting at a table in the courtyard as kids milled about, with his head in his arms on the table, he was pondering whether to fall asleep and never wake up, or just die and get it over with when someone pulled up a chair next to him, following it with a soft 'hi'.

Lifting his head, he recognized his friend and computer bud, Nagi.  

"Hey, Nagi; did your first day suck as much as mine did?"  He asked miserably.

Nagi smirked and shook his head, saying, "It has gone smoothly, so far."

"Lucky you," Omi growled.

"I heard about your date from Yohji – was it really so bad?"

"Horrible.  It just sucked.  I'm actually starting to hate him, or something."

"Oh, really?"  Nagi lifted an eyebrow.  

"Yeah – man, he was so _opinionated_.  And...  he acted like a _straight guy_, for gods sake!"

Nagi laughed and patted Omi's head.

"It couldn't have been _that_ bad."

_Oh_...  _But it was_....  Omi thought to himself...  

_And if I never have to see him again, it'd be too soon_.

_If you have any questions or comments, email me at ayanagami2002@yahoo.com, okay?_


	2. Chapter Two

I wanted to thank everyone for your support – I'm lazy, I'm already up to the fourth chapter, I just get distracted easily by shiny objects and sounds (I just heard Steal Your Bike by the Marlin Jacksons...  it was so great  ^^) so I just kind of forget about this.  So I'm updating and I hope I make at least one person happy!  O.o  I hope no one minds if this gets a little weird (Oh!  And I can never remember your name, but your review is stuck in my head – I'm going to make Omi a _Dark Raver_!  ^^)

Without any more babbling with which I can hurt myself, here it is.

Such Great Heights

By Ayanagami

~

_I have to speculate_

_That God himself did make_

_Us into corresponding shapes_

_Like puzzle pieces from far away_

Such Great Heights, second verse, by The Postal Service

~

It was a week until Omi freaked out; late for English, the blond was racing down the hallways, skidding around corners as his heart pounded, not quite sure just _what_ his teacher would do to a tardy student – no one had yet to be late in her class, due to some rumors about what she _did_ to people who were late....  which was why Omi was panicking.  The bell had yet to ring, so he wasn't actually, technically, late, but there was no way he was going to get across campus at this rate.  Students were in the hallways, making it seem like a freaking _obstacle_ course; really, the hallways should be wider and there should be carpool lanes.  

But that wasn't exactly what made him freak out.  No, it was that when he turned a corner, only a few feet away, pulling books from his locker, was one Ken Hidaka, the boy Omi had gone on a blind date with...  and _hated_.  Well, it wasn't _his_ fault (Ken or Omi's, he wasn't sure) that he hated jocks...  and Ken just happened to be a jock....  But, well, Omi froze at once upon seeing the boy, stuck between getting to English _fast_, and maybe being seen, or being late, and _not_ being seen – actually, the 'not being seen' sounded a lot more appealing.  

Spinning, Omi hightailed it as fast as possible the other way, setting his course in his head; well, if he went the _other_ way, around the Science block, then he could go down E Hall and...  

As it happened, he walked in right as the bell rang – but he wasn't sure if this teacher counted _right_ on time as being tardy or not.  However, the teacher wasn't _there_.  Sighing, he heaved himself into his seat, and proceeded to hit his head on the desk, letting such emotions as 'despair' 'misery' and 'anxiety' come upon him.

When the hell had _Ken Hidaka_ gone to Omi's school?!

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_....

Ah, yes, the second most versatile word in the English language...

"Shit..." He whispered to no one.

*

After spotting Ken at his locker, Omi couldn't seem to get away from the boy – at every other corner, he'd see him, and have to turn right back around; it was giving Omi a headache, and getting on his _nerves_.

Finally, though, Lunch.  Was it reprieve?  Oh, hell, no.  Omi then had to worry about seeing Ken in the courtyard, now.  He chose a table in the back, where he could see practically _anything_ that was going on, and slunk deep into his chair, eyes just over the tabletop.  

He started and repressed a yelp as someone tapped his shoulder, managing to look up and see Nagi's amused face above him.  He sighed in relief, admonishing himself about his jumpiness.  And about a bad date, no less....

"Am I interrupting anything?"  Nagi asked slyly as he sat next to the blond, who scowled.

"_No_."  Omi growled, "I just happened to find out that my date goes to _this school_!"

"And...?"  Nagi prodded further.

"I've had to duck into three different classrooms to avoid him!"  Omi spazzed, gripping the edge of the table lethally.  

"Why would you want to avoid him?"

"Uh, because I went on, officially, the _worst_ date _ever_, with him!"

"Or maybe you're just too cowardly to talk to him."  Nagi offered off-handedly.  Omi bristled, sitting up straight in his chair.

"I am _not_ a coward!"

"Good – because there he is."

Omi didn't even pause before he eeped and ducked under the table, whispering loudly, "_Where_?!"

"I'm just kidding – I don't even know what he looks like."

Omi punched Nagi's leg, growling, "You jerk."

Nagi chuckled and opened a bag of chips.

*

Omi's life was hell as he avoided Ken; nothing in his brain could say exactly _why_ avoiding the jock was so important, so while it tried to figure this out, his feet were doing quite a bit of jogging.  Omi was convinced that everyday he was vastly improving his cardiovascular fitness.

The only highlight was that Monday, the computers were back up and therefore Omi didn't have to sit around doing stupid bookwork – no, while he pretended to do the assignment (which he could have done five times before any one else finished) he hacked into the school records, and found Ken's file.  Now, that part of his brain that was modestly coherent was wondering just why the _hell_ Omi was doing this.  

Yes, Omi felt a little uncomfortable about digging into Ken's private life, but, well, for some insane reason, he was _curious_.  He found the file easily, but kept the window small, and his mouse on the minimize button the entire time.

_Name_:  _Ken Hidaka_, Omi read silently to himself, _Age_:  _18, Family_:  _Adopted mother and father_...  Omi paused, flushing.  Adopted?  He hastily closed the window, frowning at the screen.  He never expected that.  Feeling guilty, he did his assignment and refrained from digging into Ken's life anymore.  _That was more than I expected_...

*

Omi huffed and picked at the hem of his overly large black t-shirt.  He was in one of the computer rooms, staring at the screen – as he had for the past fifteen minutes or so.  He tapped his foot, frowning, glaring at the offending computer.  Finally, though, he just _gave up_.  He'd tried everything he could think of on this computer, but it _still_ wouldn't display the file system.  Shit.  It was the last computer for him to configure, and it was too messed up for even _him_ to figure out.  

Sighing viscously, he stood and stretched, ejecting the floppy and scooping his backpack to sling it over his shoulders.  Nagi was supposed to be in the other computer room, helping one of those dumb jocks with a simple assignment that Omi (and Nagi) could do in his sleep.  Pffft...  God, he hated Jocks.  

Striding into the room and waving the floppy around, he began, "Nagi, that _fucking_ computer in B-Hall won't accept the damn files.  It resists all the commands, even the _new_ ones, go-"

And then Omi stopped, frozen in mid step.  Nagi wasn't helping just _any_ jock.  He was helping _Ken_.

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit_....  Was all Omi's mind was capable of producing at that moment.

Both Nagi and Ken were looking at him, Ken with wide eyes, and Nagi as he got up and approached Omi.  The blue-haired boy slid the disk from between the Goth's fingers, saying, "I'll take care of it, if you take care of this."

"Uh..." Omi stared at Ken, his mouth open a little and his mind making 'eeping' noises as Nagi walked out the room, preparing to do battle with 'that _fucking_ computer'...  Of course, Nagi had no idea that Ken was Omi's 'date from hell'.

And if he had, he might have _still_ left the room.

_This_....  _Isn't good_....  Omi swallowed mentally as his body took Nagi's place.

"Um...." Omi floundered around for a place to start.  "How far...  did Nagi get?"

Ken was silent for a moment, then said, "I didn't know you went to this school."

_Shit_!  Omi cried in his head, _that's not the answer to my question_!

"I...  didn't know you went here, either."

"I transferred."

"Ah...  Oh."  Omi fidgeted, gluing his eyes on the screen.

"I never saw you around – well, I thought I saw you, once or twice, but it looked like you were in a hurry, and you were gone before I could say anything."  Ken propped his elbow on the table next to the computer, studying Omi's face.

"Uh...  well...  Let's just get this over with."  Omi said, trying to steer the conversation back to computers – after all, the faster he got started, the faster he got done!

"Oh...  Well, I don't know.  He was telling me something about dragging text..." Ken frowned, shrugging.  "Computers are not my specialty."

_Yeah, being a Jock is your specialty_.  Omi thought to himself as he moved the mouse across the screen, taking Ken, nervously, step by step through the process.  Instead, though, he said, "Well, they're mine."

It took a while to get it through Ken's head, but eventually the intelligence challenged boy could go through the moves, and was even able to quirk it a bit to his own liking.  Omi was just about to whoop for joy at the lesson's ending when he realized Ken was staring at him.

"Uh...  what?"  He asked, squirming around on the chair.

"You smell like girl, too."

Omi just blinked for a bit, then surged out of his chair, hands balled into fists unconsciously.  "What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"  He exclaimed.

"Ah...  Well, you...  look and smell like a girl..." Ken stuttered, unknowingly making matters worse.

"Well I'm _not_!"  Omi huffed, lifting up his shirt so that Ken could see that, no, he was _not_ a girl.

Ken blinked, flushing a little as he stared, stammering, "I-I can see that, I wasn't saying it like it was _bad_, just that you smelled like a girl.... You know, like flowers and perfume and pretty stuff – sometimes they smell like fruit...."

"What?  As opposed to a _guy_?"  Omi shouted, jerking his shirt back down even as he internally winced; he was getting louder...  shit...

"Well, yeah, guys smell like sweat...  and cologne, sometimes, and..."

But Omi but him off, saying, "So you're saying that I'm _girly_!?"

"Ah, No!  I...  Uh..." Ken waved his hands, shaking his head.

"What is your _problem_!?"  Omi cried angrily, kicking the leg of his vacant chair.

Ken surged to his feet, finally, grabbing Omi by his black shirt, his own cheeks flushed a little.  "_Nothing_ is my problem, what's _your_ problem!?"  He retorted, shaking Omi once; unfortunately, once was enough for Omi to lose footing he didn't know was off already and tumble head first onto Ken, sending them both sprawling over the floor.

Omi blushed as he realized they were flush against each other, Ken's thigh between his legs, pressing strangely comfortably against him.  He realized Ken smelled really spicy, like how Chai Tea would if it smelled the way it tasted; it mingled with sweat from what Omi couldn't only guess as practice.  For a moment, stunned, they staid as they were – Omi with his face in Ken's neck and his forearms braced on either side of Ken's head, and Ken with his thigh between Omi's legs, and one of his hands brushing against his side under his shirt.

Abruptly, Omi jerked away, wide eyed and red in the face, rolling off the Jock as his mind screamed gibberish.

Breathing hard, Omi snatched his backpack up by his chair and darted out of the class, his body haunted by the feel of Ken against it, and the way the Jock smelled.

*

"Yohji!"  He shrieked as he stormed through the front door, tossing his backpack carelessly on the table – and ignoring it as it skidded over the top and landed on the floor.

No one answered, so he called again, tearing through the hallways.  "Yohji!"

He rounded the entire house, calling the name of his friend, coming again to the entrance.  Frowning, he walked to the refrigerator where he saw a note stuck with a magnet, and read, _Hey, Omi, Went out for a while, won't be home until six_.

"Well...." Omi began, sitting on the tabletop and swinging his legs dejectedly.  "Well...  crap."

Sighing, he revisited the fridge, this time opening it up to peer inside.  Nothing.  There was nothing to eat.  Well, it was only four...  ah, what the hell.  He needed to go snack shopping.

_Aaaand, we're done_!


	3. Chapter Three

Such Great Heights

By Ayanagami

~

_True – it may seem like a stretch_

_But it's thoughts like this that catch_

_My troubled head when you're away_

_When I am missing you to death_

- Such Great Heights, third verse, by Postal Service

~

One thing that Omi never took for granted was that in having a job, or a semblance of a job, he was damn near always prepared whenever he got his insane urges to spend some money.  Usually on either one of two things.  Junk food, or 'Technocrap,' as Yohji called it.  And right now he was in the mood for stuff that health brochures specifically advised against.  

Shopping cart in hand and a destination in mind, he cruised passed aisles filled with baby products, toys, cereals, fruit, whatever.  The stuff that he wasn't there for.  Instinctively he turned a corner and found himself surrounded by chips, cookies, candy, dip, the works.  He noted to himself that he needed some more whip cream.  He grabbed a few bags of chips, corresponding dips, whatever looked the least healthiest, just the way he liked it.  He opted for a few bags of candy – mainly peppermint flavored, a taste he liked for some odd reason.

He then made a bee-line for the frozen section – hmmm...  Should he get ice cream or keep with his original thought of whip cream...?

"Jesus Christ, there's no way you can eat that by yourself."  A familiar voice intoned behind him – before he turned, his mind struggled placing that voice, but failed until he met surprised teal eyes.

Ken.

Crap.

Fighting a blush and scowling, Omi glared at the jock before turning his attention back to what he was originally there for – he grabbed a can of whip cream, the kind you could just point and squirt.  He turned back and found Ken not quite rummaging through his stuff so much as leaning over the cart with a dismayed look.

"Sheez, it's like you put everything from the junk food aisle into your cart!"  Omi felt his eye twitch as he uncapped the whip cream, wondering if the guy knew he had his feet dangling out of his mouth at the moment.  Ken faced him, unaware of the danger he was in as he continued, "Aren't you afraid o-"

But, at that moment, Omi had shaken the contents of the can, and inserted the nozzle into Ken's open mouth, applying pressure and filling the cavity with whip cream, making Ken's eyes widen in shock.

That done, Omi withdrew the bottle, licking some remnants of whip cream from his finger and the tip of the nozzle, he then recapped the bottle, dropped it into the cart, and made his way to the fruit section – his one stop in which he'd acquire something healthy in his binge.

He left a gaping Ken behind with a mouth full of whip cream.

*

Yohji laughed at him from the living room couch, sprawled across the upholstery, as Omi glared at him from his position against the wall as he sat on the floor.

"So, let me get this straight...  this guy is constantly saying whatever comes to mind first, and because of that, you fill his mouth with whip cream."  Yohji grinned cockily, then added, "Oh, and you're avoiding him at school because you hate him."

"Wouldn't you hate someone who stands for everything that officially sucks?  He called me a girl, Yohji!"  Omi exclaimed, throwing a bag of chips at the green-eyed boy.

"No, he didn't," Yohji corrected, catching the bag and tossing it back amiably.  "He said you smelled like one."

"And that I looked like one – you can't get any closer to calling a guy a girl than that besides actually saying it!"  Omi spazzed.

"Well maybe it was just an observation – or maybe even a compliment."

"... that would have to be the worst compliment I've ever heard."

Yohji shrugged.  

"Anyway," Omi said, changing the subject, "What were you doing this afternoon?"

"Ah, that..." Yohji looked rather pleased with himself.  "I got a job."

"Really?  Great!"  Omi said, grinning; after all, he wasn't going to support Yohji his entire life.  Especially since the green eyed boy was older than him!  "Where do you work?"

"At a record store.  I'm starting next week, when I meet most of the staff."

"What's your boss like?"

"Ahh...  She's okay.  A little zealous, but interesting."

"That's awesome.  Don't screw it up."  Omi warned as he got up and left the room, taking with him the strawberries, whip cream, and his bags of minty-flavored candy.

Yohji protested, saying that comment was uncalled for.

*

Omi was online, waiting for Nagi to get on as he munched on a strawberry – he'd yet to venture into the whip cream.  It was almost as if in being inside Ken's mouth, it was off limits.  After all, that's where the moron put his foot most the time, anyway.

A window popped up accompanied by the sound of a buddy online.  

PerpetualDark:  Always online, I see.

Bombay:  Not always – I went junk food shopping.

PerpetualDark:  :laugh:  Fear inducing.

Bombay:  :growl:

PerpetualDark:  No, really.

Bombay:  Anyway, did you fix the computer?

PerpetualDark:  Yup.  The feedback was messed up.  I needed to reroute the relays.

Bombay:  Oh.  I hate you, I really do.

PerpetualDark:  And what else is new?  O_o

Bombay:  Actually, the shit hit the fan, so to say.

PerpetualDark:  Oh really?  Do tell.  o.o

Bombay:  KEN WAS MY FUCKING DATE, YOU ASS!!!

There were few moments in which there was no reply.

PerpetualDark:  Oops.

Bombay:  OOPS!?  OOPS!!!??  That's all you can say??!

Omi was at that moment throwing a hissy fit in front of the computer screen making vengeful noises and angry faces, forming his fingers into claws and pretending to lunge at the screen with them.

PerpetualDark:  Yeah, pretty much, I didn't know.  Can't blame it on me.  You never told me his name.

Bombay:  Technically, no, I can't blame it on you, however, theoretically, yes, it's all your fault.

PerpetualDark:  And this theory is...?

Bombay:  In my own damn head.

PerpetualDark:  Ah, yes...  THAT again...

Bombay:  Shut up.  And he called me a girl again.

PerpetualDark:  How so?

Bombay:  Said I smelled like a girl.  And then we fell down and I landed on top of him.

PerpetualDark:  So, did you cop a feel?

Bombay:  .  NO I DIDN'T!  

PerpetualDark:  ...

Bombay:  No!

PerpetualDark:  ......

Bombay:  ...no.

PerpetualDark:  .........

Bombay:  ...  er...  not intentionally.

PerpetualDark:  As I thought.  Anything else?

Bombay:  I ran into him in the grocery store.  I think he was about to call me fat when I filled his mouth with whip cream and walked off.

PerpetualDark:  Only you.  Have to go.  See you tomorrow.

Bombay:  Bye.

PerpetualDark has logged off.

Omi sighed and leaned back, line of sight suddenly drawn to the neglected can of whip cream.

He snorted and turned his gaze away, a part of his mind thinking 'Ew!  Been contaminated!'

Sighing, he struggled out of his computer chair, jogging down stairs to collect his backpack.  He bypassed Yohji and scooped up his pack, hightailing back to his room before his roommate could comment or say a thing.  Usually something about cybering.. O.o 

In his room, he dropped his backpack, following it to his knees and rooting through it until he emerged with his Trig book and notepad.  The good thing was that today it was only Trig.  The bad thing was that today was only Trig.

What the hell was he supposed to with the rest of the night?

*

There is a day in everyone's lives when they have to face the music.  

The music, for Omi, was Gym.

Somehow Gym had gotten dumped on him fifth period, right after lunch, after three years of quietly dodging the class like a drunken fighter – bob and weave, bob and weave.

It looked like Omi might have actually gotten away with cutting Gym and working on the computers for the entire year...  until he was found out, and dragged, bodily, into the locker room, forced to dress out, and join the activities.  Omi cursed the teacher, cursed the messenger, and cursed whatever God was laughing at him.  But, must of all, he cursed Ken Hidaka.

Because Omi hadn't attended a _day_ of Gym, not the first, nor the second, nor any minute in the following weeks, the blond Goth never knew that Ken was in his class.  Trailing sullenly behind the boy who had ferreted him out of the computer room and forced him to change into his Gym clothes (which he willingly did, because he had a suspicion that if he didn't...  the guy might do it for him - Omi wasn't that desperate), Omi walked out onto the soccer field, glaring malevolently with plenty of malicious emotions to go around at the rest of his class.  He only missed Ken on his first sweep because Ken was actually behind him, practicing with another kid.

When the kid moved into the middle of the field, Omi just stopped following him.  Arms crossed over his chest, chin tucked down and generally drawing into himself, Omi stood at the edge, refusing to come near one of those balls from hell.  Really, what more could a black and white patchwork ball be?

Finally, much to Omi's chagrin, the coach noticed him, glaring at the little whelp who _dare_ choose computers over his precious, most wonderful class called...  'Gym'.  With holy lights and an angelic chorus and everything.  The whole kit.

"Tsukiyono!  Glad to see that you've managed to grace my class with your presence."  The coach bellowed from halfway across the field.  Omi made a face at him, as if saying 'don't rub it in, and don't get too excited.'  "Get a partner and start moving."

When Omi didn't move like he was ordered to - _Like hell I'm going to jump to his orders, damnit_, Omi thought vehemently to himself – the coach yelled at him again.

"Move!"

By that time, most of the class had stopped to look at Omi – or, rather, a pale, blond kid wearing a Tee and shorts both way too big for him and black sneakers.  Actually, they saw a homicidal blond kid, but they just didn't know it.

Omi, in turn, glared right back at the kids, spotting Ken for the first time and paling.  Oh...  _crap_.

Hastily looking back at the coach, Omi stood his ground.  Getting dragged across campus, forced to wear these clothes that made him look like the kid who got picked last in everything, and made to stand in a field of dumb soccer people was one thing.  Taking _part_ in the cult-like activity (in Omi's opinion, anyway) was another thing entirely.

Obviously, Omi's thoughts were quite clear.  And obviously, the coach really didn't _care_.

"Hidaka!  Partner with Tsukiyono!  He looks like he doesn't even know what a soccer ball is."

That did it.  While Omi would usually never stoop so low, desperate times called for desperate measures.  And having Ken as a partner, in Omi's less than coherent mind, definitely registered as _desperate_!

Spotting the nearest soccer ball, he charged, taking no heed that he was charging towards Ken...

His foot connected, the ball went flying, and with a thud, Ken was down for the count.

End Notes:  Thank you for your reviews.  I hope this is funny enough, and cute enough.  I agree with those reviewers of mine who said that they dislike the fuzzy loving stuff.  I HATE it!  It makes me want to puke – my favorite couples, yaoi or otherwise, always mix like water and oil.  ^^  I write about it a whole lot, too.  And sorry for the delay.  :grins and strikes a pose:  I'm a dumbass!


	4. Chapter Four

Such Great Heights

By Ayanagami

~

_When you are out there on the road_

_For several weeks it shows_  

_And when you scan the radio_  

_I hope this song will guide you home_

- Such Great Heights, fourth verse, by Postal Service  

~

The trip to the nurses office was, well, interesting.

After Omi knocked out Ken with the transportable ball of doom, something close to hell had broken loose.  The coach began swearing up and down, making even Omi shocked as kids surrounded Ken's prone, slightly twitching body.  Omi blinked a few times before joining them, staring down at his handiwork.  Wow.  Ken was really out like a light.

And Omi, for his part, was torn between being surprised, and being amused.  On one hand, he just realized that he could be rather lethal, and on the other...  well, he could be rather lethal, _and_ he'd just knocked out Ken.  Score... two for the Goth!  Omi briefly wondered if Ken's remarks about his doubtful masculinity counted as points, but for his own sanity and peace of mind, decided against it.  That was just wrong – if he gave the Jock a point every time he stuck his foot in his mouth, then there was no way he'd win.

_And what game are you playing, anyway, psycho_?  A part of his brain asked.

The 'psycho' part it was referring to replied, _Don't ask me_.  : _point_: _I'm with him_.

The coach pushed through the crowding students, growling and grunting and shouting random things at the whole lot, warning them away.

"Give him room, damnit!  Back away, let him breath!"  The coach bellowed as he finally reached the prone Jock.  "Ken!  Ken wake up!"

Ken groaned, turning his head to the side.  Omi didn't blame him – the coach looked like he didn't have all that great of breath.  But the coach persisted, and Ken's eyes slowly opened, squinting up at the teacher.

"Ken!  How many fingers am I holding up?"

"...Uh....  damn whip cream..."

Omi almost choked.

"Ken!  Ken look at me now!  How – many – fingers – am I holding up?"

Scowling at the coach's hand, Ken muttered, "Doesn't kick like a girl," at which Omi bristled, the rest of the class just said 'wha---?' and the coach panicked.

"Crap!  He could have a concussion; Tsukiyono, this is your mess, take Hidaka down to the nurses office.  And stay with him until he doesn't die!"  _Oh, real informative_.  The coach bellowed, face scrunched at Omi.  Omi made a face right back, disliking the thought that he would have to spend more time than absolutely necessary with the Jock. 

Resistance is futile.

Huffing, Omi kicked the other boy's side; ignoring the coach's furious reprimand he snapped at the soccer player, "Get up, dork."

Ken groaned and focused on Omi, blinking a few times.  Said blond reached down to drag Ken to his feet, pulling him out of the center of the crowd – the Jock stumbled along behind him groggily, mumbling something Omi didn't really want to hear.

It was when Omi heard a thud behind him when he had a sudden epiphany; Ken wasn't going to make it to the Nurses office.  Not the way he was getting there _now_, in any rate.  Turning around, Ken was again sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and glazed, most likely seeing dancing purple unicorns and soccer balls.  Omi groaned and helped the jock to his feet, then, flinging an arm around Ken's waist, and the jock's arm around his neck, assisted in his travel from point A to point C.  Point B was the hallways in which Ken had fallen over again, where he sustained another head injury, and suddenly decided to get _very_ friendly with Omi.

"Mmm..."  Ken murmured into the crook of the blonde's neck as he tried to get the Jock moving again.  "'Smell good..."

Ken then proceeded to nuzzle the hell out of Omi's slim neck, which sent tingles up and down the blonde's spine, making him blink, shocked, for a whole minute.  When Ken's nimble fingers somehow found their way under his shirt and ghosted over his skin, though, Omi suddenly found his voice.  And a good punch.

"You jerk!"  Omi cried, clipping the Jock in the jaw and sending him tumbling into the lockers next to them.  Oh, yes, the shocked _look_ on the boy's face was worth the groping.  Resisting the urge to stomp up to Ken and give him a good kick between the legs, he glared and threatened, "Touch me again like that and I'll chop your fingers off."

And the worst part was...  _I actually liked it_??

"I was raised by a cup of coffee....  in Minnesota..." Ken murmured most incoherently, struggling to get up, then dropping like a weight back to the floor.  "Pikachu peeked at you...."

"You...  when you get incoherent, you get _incoherent_."  Omi said, mostly to himself, as he wrenched Ken up and they continued, or, at least, Omi continued, and Ken just kept saying nonsensical things.  "But you're hard to understand even when you have full control of your brain, anyway."

"Yeah...  two is a funny flavor..."

Omi sighed and thought happy thoughts.

*

He stayed in the nurse's office for a long.... long.... long time.  Most the time, he entertained himself by glaring at Ken, who was awake the entire time, just talkative and not making any sense.  He also thought of interesting ways in which he could kill the Jock.  Some of the most satisfying, though, involved things along the line of baseball bats, golf clubs, and rocket launchers.  A rather funny one involved supply of Napalm, a chicken, and a lot of honey. (For those of you who don't know what Napalm is, it's an extremely flammable substance that, once it starts burning, just keeps on going.... and going... and going... I think it's made out of Styrofoam and something else.)

"Omi, Omi, Omi..." Ken sang as he lay on the infirmary bed, smiling at the blond Goth stupidly.  Omi redoubled his glare and tripled the violence of his thoughts.  "Omi~~~~"

"What!"  Omi said, scowling.

"Why do you hate me?"  If Ken hadn't been smiling so insanely huge, and if his eyes hadn't been so glazed, Omi would have been nervous.  As it was, Ken looked very out of it.

"Why do I hate you?"  Omi scoffed.  "You're an insensitive Jock jerk with no brains and your only ambition in life is, I bet, soccer."

Ken smiled even wider at the mention of his beloved sport.  "I like soccer..."

Omi groaned and banged his head against the wall he sat against.

"Omi~~~~"  Ken called again.

"Whaaaaat..." Omi moaned, his eyes closed.  _Stupid freaking jerk didn't know when to shut up, God I hate concussions, if I could, I'd shoot them_.

He was still repeating 'shoot them, shoot them, shoot them, shoot them, shoot them' in his head when he felt breath against his cheek.  His eyes snapped open and Ken's teal eyes were.... like, incredibly _close_ to his own, glazed and everything.

The Omi did something that lowered him to Ken's level for a moment.  He dove to the side, crying the first thing that came to his mind, "Gun!"  Hitting his head against a group of cabinets that were fastened to the wall about a foot off the floor.

The last thing he heard before passing out was "where!" and the feeling of a body on top of his.

*

"Moose, moose, I like a moose, I've never had anything quite like a moose..." Omi heard as he regained consciousness, aware that he was on the floor and someone's legs were flung over him almost carelessly.  That, and the song that was currently being sung needed to be shot.

"I've had many lovers, my life has been loose, but I've never had anything quite like a moose..." Yes, shot....  multiple times, just in case it survived.  

By that time, the next lyrics were drowned out in Omi's head by his brain building something that looked awfully like a bonfire and dancing around it, chanting, "Shoot it, shoot it, shoot it, shoot it, shoot it...."

And in that moment, Omi swore off Grand Theft Auto and its entertaining yet senseless violence forever. (GTA will live for all time!)

Omi groaned and curled into a ball, as if warding off evil spirits, bad singing, and atrocious lyrics that were slowly getting amusing.

That not working, his left foot lashed out and connected with something warm, most likely a body.  Someone grunted, the singing stopped, and he heard a thud.

His brain took the opportunity to insert evil laughter.

*

"Omi, I didn't see you yesterday, and you weren't online."  Nagi commented as he sat across from the mentally unstable blonde during lunch period.

"That's because I've gone through what old Indian tribes thought of as a boy's transition from boyhood into manhood..."

"... you had sex?"

Omi choked and fought to retain his holdings on his seat, sputtering, "No!  I went through hell yesterday!"

"How so?"

He took a deep breath, retelling all of yesterday's events, ending with, "... and then I came home, finally, and Yohji was on the phone with the coast guard because he didn't know where I was."

Nagi's face was completely blank...  except for the slight twitch at his mouth, threatening to make it into a grin.

"Say something,"  glowered Omi.

Schooling his expression and taking a moment to make sure he had full control over his voice, Nagi asked, "And what have we learned?"

Omi thought for a moment.  "Next time, I'm aiming for the coach.  Then running like hell."  (Thanks to the reviewer who wrote what they would have done – look!  Omi learned from you!)

"You do that."

Omi almost burst into tears as he cried, "And I have gym next period!"

"Maybe it won't be so bad."

"Like hell it won't!  With my luck, I'll hide, and the coach will send _Ken_ to find me, and he'll drag me into the locker room and make me change, but I won't, and then he'll chase me around and we'll end up in a compromising situation with me half naked and someone'll walk in on us and they'll start screaming and then... then...  penguins will invade and demand that we cultivate millions of pecans as homage to them."

Nagi gave him a look that only _screamed_ 'Omi, what have you been smoking?'

A/N: I want to thank everyone who's reviewed!  I read them and was inspired to write the rest of this chapter!  So I don't have the next chapter written out!  CRAP!  Also, I'm having an influx of strange humor right now, which is why I have the entire lucid Ken thing going on.  Anyway, it's pretty short – I'm sorry.  I might make Omi like Trance and Techno (which are my favorite genres (types of music)!  "I'm a Raver, not a crazy drug addict!")  But what should Ken like?  Should he like music at all?  Your call!  Either I give credit to whoever has the most convincing argument, or whatever genre has the most votes!  It doesn't matter what kind!  I probably know of it.

I'm glad you all liked Ken being hit with a soccer ball!  I thought it was amusing as well!  Any ideas, leave them in a review!  PLEASE REVIEW?  **And tell me your opinion on what Ken's musical preference should be**!

And anyone know who does the song that goes "Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me..."


	5. Chapter Five

A/N:  This one is WEIRD!  Don't worry – it's just for this chapter... and a little bit of next chapter.  Hey, someone dies in this one.. and Ken and Omi get it on!  So, when you start getting confused... believe me...  it's on purpose.  Anyway.  Pease don't hit the back button!

Such Great Heights

By Ayanagami

~

_They will see us waving from such great heights_

_"Come down, now" They'll say_

_But everything looks perfect from far away_

_"Come down, now" But we'll stay_

- Such Great Heights, Chorus, by Postal Service

~

After Lunch, Omi didn't hide in the computer lab – oh, no, that boy wasn't stupid!  He found refuge, instead, in the library.  Well, maybe he was a little dumb – after all, library was the second place Ken looked for him.  Oh, yes, _Ken_ was the one sent to drag him back to gym.  When Omi saw him over the top of his book, coming towards him with a _look_ on his face that said everything he needed to know, his first thought was - _Oh, holy freaking crap, all I need is a crystal ball and a goofy name and I'm all set!_  (Note:  This was a pun towards fortune tellers)

Ken placed his hand on the table across from Omi, but as he opened his mouth to say something, not looking at all pleased to be sent to chase Omi around the school, the Goth fell off his chair, in a half-conscious attempt to flee.   Groaning, he peeked over the edge, meeting Ken's eyes.  The Jock was scowling.  Probably wanted to go off with his friends, play soccer, lose a few more brain cells, listening to heavy metal or... (shudder) rap.  _I bet he's a poser_!  Omi thought ferociously to himself.

"What the hell?"  Ken's expression was like.... O_o

Omi was all like.... o.o;

(The author was all like XD)

"Keep your voices down."  The old librarian warned as she walked by their table, a few books in her arms.  They blinked at the librarian, then at each other, silent until Omi spoke, in his 'indoor voice'.

"I guess that you're here to drag me to Gym, huh?"

"You could say that..."

_Yeah, and I could also say screw you_.

Ken reached across the table, hand stretched to enclose Omi's wrist.  The Goth barely had time to snatch up his backpack before Ken tugged him in the direction of the library's exit.  Stumbling, Omi pressed against the teal-eyed boy as they emerged into the deserted hallways, Ken stopping to say something to Omi – instead, they both ended up on the floor – again – Omi making strange noise and trying to wiggle away.  Ken's brain became confused, at that moment, as to how his body came to be on the floor, instead of on his feet...  His hand went slack and Omi scampered down the hallway.

"Wha-?" Ken, seeing Omi disappear around the corner, was decidedly...  disgruntled.  Grunting and pulling himself to his feet in his own clumsy way, (Ken?  Clumsy?  Naaaw... O.o) he gave chase, tottering around the corner only to glimpse the blond flashing around another corner.

*

_There is absolutely no way in_ hell _that I'm going to let_ Ken _drag me to Gym_!  Omi thought as he barreled down the hallway, not watching where he was going, not even thinking that there might be a pole somewhere that he might run into...  He could hear his own footsteps along with Ken's echoing off the walls, but soon, he ignored all sounds and just told his legs to _run_!

Many things passed through his brain during this once in a lifetime exercise.  Most of them were cusswords, though.  What was worth being mentioned was lost amid these cusswords, never to be retrieved again...  

Bumping hard into another person, Omi squeaked and fell back, landing on his butt.  (Ass!  Ass!)

"What the hell?  Watch the hell where you're going, you depraved fag!"  A blond girl with a bubblegum-colored top that was waaaay too small for her exclaimed in annoyance, looking down her nose at Omi, who groaned as he got up, rubbing his head.

"Just because you get more action than me doesn't mean you should rub it in – after all, sleeping with the entire male population of the school is as much action as you can get... until you go pro.  The world is your oyster!"

"Omi, you dick!"  She screeched, a sound that could cut asunder many eardrums – however, Omi was screeched at so much, he was nearly immune to the attack. (Obviously he pisses her off a lot, huh?)

"I _have_ one, but you're not getting anywhere near it!"

The bubblegum wrapped cheerleader reached out a clawed hand and struck the Goth across the cheek with a speed not even Omi could follow.  Blinking, stunned for a moment, Omi slowly touched his burning face, mouth open as he tried to comprehend what had happened.

"You... little... _whore_..." Scowling fiercely, Omi snaked out his hand and slapped the girl back, who yelped and cradled her injured cheek.  

"Jerk!"  _Slap_!

"Slut!"  _Slap_!

"Queer!"  _Slap_!

"Bitch!"  _Slap_!

"Dicklicker!"  _Slap_!

"Pepto Bismal Prostitute!"  

By this time, however, Omi had gotten carried away...  and as he hand swung to deal a stinging blow on her cheek, his fist closed and...

She stared at him from her position on the floor, knocked flat on her ass.  

*

"Where the fuck did he go?"  Ken wondered to himself as he wandered the hallways, a scowl across his face.  Far off, he heard the sound of two cats fighting...  _Must be the cheerleaders_.

*

With a shriek, she charged the Goth who somehow adopted a look of 'deer caught in the headlights'.  They landed on the floor, but neither wasted any time before tearing into each other.

*

_Those cats are starting to sound really weird_...

*

Panting, Omi crawled out from under the cheerleader, resting on his hands and knees as he stared at the floor.  Blinking at the lack of noise from the cheerleaders, he cocked his head to glance over his shoulder...

There was a pool of blood spreading from under the girl, her face slack and skin beginning to cool.  Omi could swear that, from somewhere within the hallways of school, he could hear someone's triumphant laughter and the words 'You win!'  (If no one gets this, that's okay; think Mortal Kombat.)

"I..."

"Killed Sara Lee!"  Came a voice from behind him... or in front of him... whatever.  Whipping his head around, at first all he saw were a pair of black and white sneakers...  letting his gaze wander upwards found a pair of jeans...  an orange sweater tied around a waist and...  no, wait, the sweater gave it away;  Ken.

"I don't want to go to Gym!"  Omi cried, lacking any other words.  Ken adopted a strange look on his face, backing away a few steps and raising his hands in a defensive gesture.  

"Hey, if you feel like that..."

"Ah..." Omi blinked at Ken.

Ken coughed.

*

"Damn; for a cheerleader, she's really heavy!"  Ken complained as they dragged Sara's bloody corpse through the hallways of the school.

"Dead bodies are heavier than live ones – that's just how it is."  Omi replied, readjusting his grip on Sara's left wrist.  

"They smell worse, too."

"No, this is just how Sara always smells."

"Uh."  Ken didn't have much more to say on the matter.  But then a different issue arose.  "She has a lot of blood."

"..."  Omi didn't bother replying.  Of _course_ she had a lot of blood!

"And...  it's leaking everywhere..."

Slowly, the Goth was getting the picture.  "So...." Looking over his shoulder, he realized that the girl's blood _was_ leaking... all over the floor.  It was smearing along the tiles as they dragged her...  which was a bad thing.  "Crap."

"What do we do?"  Ken asked, stopping and stretching his back.

"Well... Let's just worry about her body... and afterwards about all this blood."

"Okay."  They resumed dragging the corpse; their spirits lifted as they saw the back exit, leading out to the football field.  They ran into another problem as they dragged Sara Lee down the stairs, across the pavement and over the grass....

"She's still bleeding."

Omi dropped the cheerleader's left arm and sat down with his face in his hands.  "I didn't mean to kill her!  Fuck!  How the hell am I supposed to get blood out of both the hallways and _grass_?"

Ken, in effort to comfort the distressed Goth, knelt by the blond and placed his hand on Omi's shoulder, saying, "Well, it could always rain... wash away the blood and all..."

Sniffing, Omi raised his face and looked at Ken.  "You think so?"

Ken opened his mouth to reply, but a clap of thunder drowned his first word out.  It started raining.  Omi burst into tears.

"_Why_ the _hell_ are you _crying_?"  Ken said, dumfounded.

"Sara Lee's body's going to get heavier, now!"

"Ah, shit."

It obviously hadn't occurred to him.  

"Can we bury her **now**?"  Omi whined, sitting back on the grass petulantly.

Ken looked around, surveying the area.  "Well...  I guess...  it **is** in the football field...."

"Yay!"  Omi  cheered even as the rain began pouring down harder.  "Eh...  wait... I thought you were a jock."

"I only like soccer.  Football players are morons."  Ken spotted the supplies shack across the field and set off in a jog.  "Be right back – I'm going to go get some shovels."

"Okay...." As Ken left the area, Omi stood up finally, and started muttering a prayer over the dead cheerleaders body.  

"Sara Lee, you were a demon in life, wearing atrociously slutty clothing, too much pink, and sleeping around with half of the male student body.  I'm sure I speak for a lot of people, including those you've infected with various STD's, when I say...  **BACK TO HELL, DEMON**!!!!!"

.... _Wonder if we get to beat her with the shovels before we bury her_....?  Omi thought almost absentmindedly.  By that time, Ken had returned with two shovels, and, handing one to Omi, began selecting a site to begin digging.

"What were you just doing?"

"Oh... saying a prayer..."  Omi answered, vaguely.

"That was nice."

"Yeah."  Omi agreed.

"Hey, why are we in the principle's office?"  Omi wondered aloud.  He could have sworn that he was just burying a dead cheerleader...

"We finished burying Sara Lee, don't you remember?"  Someone said to his left – he angled his head and looked at Ken, who was making a 'something really funny is going on with you, man' face.

"Uhh... obviously not."  Omi responded with a 'what, do I have to state the obvious, here?' face.

"Huh... maybe you've hit your head one too many times..." Ken peered closer, brows knitting together as he tried to inspect Omi's head.  After a few prods, Omi slapped his hand away.

"Knock it off!"  He snapped, glaring.  Ken just gave him an amused look, and leaned in closer, a strange gleam in his eyes.  Omi swallowed, and backed away a few feet.  "I said knock it off!"

"...or what?"  Ken followed his backtracking, and the Goth soon found himself flush against the wall.  Talk about being between a rock and a hard place!  _Ken_'s hard place....  (No!  Naughty thoughts!)

"Or...." Omi's mind took a tiny break in that instant, but, sensing danger, canceled the plane trip and lunch in the Bahamas.  "What do you mean 'or'?  Just stop it!"

"Okay."  Ken took an innocent step backward; before Omi could lower his hackles, though, the Jock lunged at him, pinning him to the wall.  Omi knew he was dead.

"I said sto-"  He was interrupted by Ken's mouth descending upon his, cutting off his exclamation... and source of oxygen.  For a very.  Long.  Time.

During which...

_Holy **shit**_!?  _We just got done burying the sluttiest, most annoying cheerleader the world has to offer, and this guy wants to stick his **tongue** down my fucking **throat**_?  Omi's mind screamed.

_What the fuck_! _Is he **turned on** by the fact that I killed someone or something_!??

Then...

_Uh_..._ wait_..._  I'm getting really light headed_...

_And_... _the clock says it's four thirty_...  _it's really dark_....

_I think I'm losing consciousness_...

Omi's eyes rolled back and he went limp, almost a second before Ken pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  The Jock blinked down at the blond, realizing the boy had been knocked out by his kiss.

"Hey, I didn't know I had super powers."

The blond coughed a few times, his body jerking with each grating hack as he regained consciousness, his lungs filling with air...

"You don't....(cough) you just... (hack, wheeze, twitch) cut off my supply of oxygen."

Ken gave him a weird look.  "You know, you could have breathed through your nose."

Omi scowled, rolled his hand into a fist, and let it fly into Ken's shoulder.  (No more head shots – the poor soccer player needs all the brain cells he can salvage.)  "And what the hell are you doing kissing me, anyway?!  I told you no!"

Ken looked hurt.  "You didn't like it?"

"No!"

"... let me try again."  Ken swooped down – was Omi ready this time?  No.  Did he pass out this time...  well, no, not this time.  Because Ken _really_ decided to make this a make-out session (as one sided as it was).  Once he was finished with the blonde's mouth, he traveled to newer, brighter futures.  Take Omi's neck, for instance.  Yup, he went there.  Got a whole lot of lip action there.  Hey, even nibbled a little on his shoulder, too!

And, as much as Omi (though he wasn't all that coherent while Ken was doing this) didn't want to like it.... by damn, he did.  A lot.  

Pretty soon... Omi began kissing back.   We're not sure why – he just did.  Besides, it felt real nice... and, hell, it made Ken real happy, too.  Happy enough to slide his hands up Omi's shirt...  or, one up his shirt... the other... went south for the winter...

Ken decided to squeeze... something... (O.o) a little at that moment, and as Omi arched his back in response, he saw a figure in the doorway, illuminated slightly by a sting of lightening from behind.

Their long, blond hair (it was fake, you could tell) was tangled and dark, wet and plastered to their school as they leaned to one side, eyes wide and blank.  Their skin, despite cosmetics, was pale and tinted strangely.  Eww... and they smelled bad, too!

"Sara Lee?!"

A/N:  Again.  Okay – SEE?  I **told** you it was weird!  Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this... **weird**... installment.  Sorry it took so long...  yadda yadda yadda...

Well!  I got lots of suggestions for what Ken's music preference should be!  Ranging from Indie Rock (got lots for that) to country (ha!  DIE NOW!) some even didn't think that Ken should like music at all.  But I saw one that... well...  how do you guys feel about... :giggles insanely: .... **disco**?  Also, another person gave me a suggestion – Ken should like The Offspring.  I don't know.  I could see him listening to them.  (I agree with you!  The Offspring are awesome!  I want to get their new CD!)  So, it's between **disco** (the most original), **indie rock** (the most voted for) and ... **The Offspring** (just... there...)  or he could like The Offspring as a side thing.  What'cha'all think?  I love hearing from you guys... I almost never finished this chapter, but then I remember all of you, and...  ^^  I feel a lot better now.  So!  **Review** and tell me your **opinion**!  (Also, if you see any errors, feel free to point them out to me – I'm one of those weirdoes who like being corrected.  O.o – on that note **thank you person who told me the correct lyrics for the main song!  If you would be so kind as to email me all of them....?**)


	6. Chapter Six

A/N:  Enjoy.  (???)  SORRY!

~

_I try my best to leave_

_This all on your machine_

_But the persistent beat_

_It sounded thin upon the sending_

- Such Great Heights, Fifth Verse, by Postal Service

~

There the dead cheerleader was, dead... only not so dead as she was supposed to be.  Okay, that posed a problem, seeing as how she was looking a little sick...  and her neck seemed to be bent a little...  but, on whole, it was just a problem.  See, people don't like being killed.  And when you kill someone, the first rule is to make DAMN sure that they're DEAD.  Otherwise, if they're not...  let's just say things can get a bit messy.  With a tiny, squirrel-like squeak, Omi ducked out from under Ken, who pouted at him.  Then the Jock realized that Omi wasn't looking at him.  Hmmm...

Curious, Ken followed Omi's line of sight...  and then he saw Sara Lee.  In all of her undead-pink-slut glory.  Then he did a rather... strange thing to do.

"Hi, Sara!  How are you?"

She turned her head slightly to look at him, a blank look in her eyes as she rasped out her answer.  "Dead..."

"Oh, really?  You _do_ look a little sick..."

Shaking, Omi tugged on Ken's T-shirt, eyes locked on the cheerleader.  "K-Ken..."

The brunette turned to look at him, questioning.  

"Don't....  don't you remember...?  We just buried Sara Lee...  you even told me yourself..."

The Jock cocked his head to the side, effecting an 'innocently ignorant' look.  "Oh?  I don't remember saying that..."

The blond scooted back a little, heart in his stomach and throat clenching almost epileptically.  "....  _Well I do_!!!"

Grabbing Ken's wrist, he jumped up and rushed the not-so-dead girl, knocking her to the side as he burst into the hallway.  Only... now it was...  his _living room_??

He stopped suddenly, and Ken knocked into him, sending them both to the floor.  The impact stole the breath from his lungs, and made his vision swim for an instant.  Then he twisted around, causing Ken to topple onto the floor from his landing on top of Omi, and stared at the... thing... filling up his living room doorway.  It looked a bit like Sara Lee mated with a goat god and one of them bore an illegitimate offspring.  Creepy.

"... I wish I had a peanut..."  Ken muttered, looking at his shoe, not all that concerned with the Sara Goat that stood before them.

"Oh, and what would you do with a peanut?"  Omi asked absentmindedly as he searched for a way around the Sara Goat.

"I'd take over the world."

"Ken, would you just shut u-"

"Hey, it's a Megacorp Vendor!"  Ken exclaimed, pointing to the side.  Omi started, and followed Ken's line of sight.  

"Holy... holy shit..." It hit Omi, then, like a ton of well-greased penguins.  "THIS IS A FUCKING DREAM!"

*

Ken blinked, his eyes wide and staring at Omi.  Omi, who was panting.  Omi, who had a crazy gleam in his eyes...

"Uh... no... it's not."

Omi blinked right back.  They were in the library on either side of a round table, almost exactly like the beginning of his dream...

"What?"

"You... screamed, 'this is a fucking dream,' and, uh, if it is, I'm dreaming the same one."  Ken explained, making careful note not to make any sharp movements.

"Uh... oh...  oh, oh my fucking god...  You mean I fell asleep in the library?"

"Yeah... at least, it's were you woke up... right now.. or.. well, something like that."  Ken looked incredibly confused.  The Goth gave him a suspicious look.

"Wait... how do I know this isn't a double dream?  Where I wake up IN a dream... but I'm still dreaming...?  How do I know that you won't try to molest me again, or the goat god won't try and make me eat road kill or something?"

Ken smiled nervously.  "Um...  because I haven't gotten hit in the head with a soccer ball recently, and I don't think there are any goat gods around at the time."

Omi swallowed.  "Because you haven't gotten...?"  He snatched up his backpack and bolted for the library door.

Ken remembered what happened during his concussion.

Why was this bad?  Because, if he had forgotten, Omi could go on pretending like it never happened (except in certain dreams...) and everything would be okay, because Ken would never know it had happened.  (Despite the fact that he accidentally copped a feel on Ken once.)

But that was all shot to HELL now.  Because Ken remembered and Omi didn't know how to act about it.  So he did the only thing he could think of – he went to talk to Yohji.  Or, would have, if Ken hadn't followed him.  His spidey-sense tingling, Omi, twisted around just in time to see a whole lot of Ken heading his way.  A whole lot of Ken tripping over a skateboard that had been sent down the hall by a clumsy skater, and a whole lot of Ken stumbling into him, knocking them both into the open janitors closet, then somehow, that whole lot of Ken managed to shut the door behind them.  They fell to the floor gracelessly, Omi groaning and trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness in the room.  He gathered himself up, feeling around back to the door.  He had reached his destination when he froze, remembering just _which_ janitor closet they were in.  The one that locked itself.  The one that couldn't be opened from the inside.

In a 'holy crap, I just realized something' voice, Omi said, "We're fucked."

"I hope you don't mean that literally."

~^~

"Uh.. so... listen... I'm really sorry, you know... about... uh... mistaking you for a girl..."  Yohji stuttered apologetically to his coworker.  It was the first time he was finally alone with the guy, and he had jumped on the chance to make the apology – but he was having a rather hard time... what, with being ignored and all...  And just the fact that he was having a hard time gave him an even _harder_ time.  He was usually pretty suave, even when making an apology, _even_ to cold cases, like the one on his hands now.  But... he was just stuttering.

"I mean... I've never done... that before... and, uh, well, I really am sorry."  Another moment of silence in return and Yohji frowned.  "Uh.. are you going to say _anything_?"

"Yes."  Yohji blinked at the terse reply, but before he could inquire, he continued.  "Go away."

Cocking an eyebrow, Yohji sighed, departing with a few last words.  "Well, I apologized, remember."

~^~

"SOMEONE!  HELLO!!  ANYONE!  HEEEEY!"

"No one's out there.  No one can hear you."

"I can still try, though."

"Sure, and scare small animals away with the sound of your war cry."

"Hey!  Say that to my face!"

"I would, but I can't see your face.  Just calm down."

Someone whimpered.  "I don't like small, dark places..."

"Um...  you're claustrophobic?"

"....slightly."

"Er... just try and think about something else."

"Oh, sure, like what?"

"Well...  do you play video games...?"

~^~

-ring-

"Hello?"

"Hey... uh... Nagi, right?"

"Yeah.  Who's this?"

"It's Yohji.  Uh, listen, Omi hasn't come home yet, and I was wondering when was the last time you spoke to him."

"Lunch today."

"Huh.... did he say if he was going anywhere after school?"

"No.  He could be molesting Ken in a janitor closet, though."

Yohji made a muffled, choking sound on his end of the line.  "Wh-wha?"

"Just a thought."

"Uh... yeah."

"I'll call if I hear from him.  And don't worry – he likes vampires."

"What does that have to do with any-"

-click-

~^~

"So, anyway, I found my teddy bear in pieces and a note saying 'could be you' in the mirror."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope."

"What happened?  Who did it?"

"My guess is the kid who hated my guts since preschool."

"Sheez.  A third grade psychopath on the loose."

"You're telling me.  I've had to deal with kids like him my entire life.  It's a wonder I'm so weird."

"Yeah, I'd question anyone's sanity if their first instinct was to kick a soccer ball into another person's face."

"Okay, you know what, it was an accident, I panicked, and I kicked the ball."

"...And gave me a concussion."

"That, too.  But I got a concussion later on."

"Yeah.. about that... do you.. uh.. remember..."

_Uh oh_... _Remember what_...?

"....?"

"...A song about a moose?"

Omi let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Er... actually... I think I do..."

"Oh god."

They were quiet for a few moments, mulling over this new thought.  Omi sniggered.

"Where did you learn a song like that about moose?"

Ken groaned, replying, "I'd rather not talk about it..."

Homing in on the direction of Ken's voice, Omi pounced, grinning.  However, Ken seemed to have a lovely problem with balance – as in, oops, there he went.  They clattered to the floor, rolled a few times (bringing with them more jangling doom) and came to a stop, Omi mysteriously ending up on the bottom.

"Owchie..." Ken said quietly after the noise had died down.  

Exhaling, Omi managed to relax a bit.  "Where'd you learn the perverted moose song?"  The Goth didn't seem to mind that Ken was still lying on top of him.  (Niiiice...)

Ken growled, then sighed.  "My Aunt."

".... and...?"  Omi prompted for more details.

"My Mother has a really... strange... sister.  She's really wild and, according to my mom, doesn't stop to think of the consequences of her actions."

"So, she didn't stop to think that maybe you'd hit your head one day and start singing the song?"

"No...  she got me drunk when she taught it to me."

"What!!??"  Omi started, surging up and, surprise, surprise, bumped into Ken, who snorted.

"She had some old juice she never liked and wanted me to see if I wanted it.  I thought it tasted pretty good so I drank that while she drank wine.  We were unpacking old boxes of crap up in her attic at the time.  I don't know what was in that juice, but all I can remember is her singing that song before we went up to the roof."

"So you were taught a perverted moose song by a crazy drunk chick."

"... pretty much, yeah."

"Heh.  So what happened when you got up to the roof?"

".... My aunt was convinced we could fly.  So we jumped off."

"Holy crap!  That's one seriously crazy chick!  How far up were you?"

"Um...  it was an old two story house, with a third story added because of the attic.  So... yeah, about three stories up."

"...what happened?"

"Um... we got stuck... in the tree."

"You got ..."  Omi couldn't help himself.  This was even dumber than him being stalked by a crazy third grader bent on world domination.  The funny thing was, he could just picture a younger version of Ken trying to jump off a roof with some crazy twenty-year-old woman.  He laughed.

"H-hey!"  Ken sputtered, indignant at being laughed at.  "Stop that!"

"Can't!  It's too funny!"  Omi giggled, feeling his whole body shake.

Ken poked the blond in the side, or as close to it as he could manage.  "Stop laughing at me!"

"Make me!"

Ken froze for a moment, during which time, Omi's eyes widened, realizing the implications of...  

Ken kissed him.

~^~

-ring-

"Hello; this is a recorded message in place of any real body assistance.  The faculty staff isn't here at the moment, but if you select which member you have a problem with, they will reply within the month, assuming you do not threaten any physical harm against their person or the persons of their household."

Nagi sighed.  Schools were getting so paranoid nowadays.

~^~

Omi was sure why he didn't try to stop it.  He was quite sure he even took part in it.  All he knew was that Ken had him pinned tightly against the wall, and was sitting on top of his thighs, pressing hard against him while trying to suck out his soul.  Omi wasn't complaining.  A little soul sucking now and then was good for people.  That, and he had his hand up Ken's shirt. He didn't think he was too much into bodies, but the fact that Ken had one didn't hurt.  At all.  

The blond became acutely aware of how quiet the room was, aside from their heavy breathing and the sound of his heart in his ears.  It was like they were the only two things in the world at the moment... that and whatever was digging into his hip at that exact time.  Ken broke the kiss, tongue still touching Omi's as he withdrew, trying to catch his breath.  Then, without a word, plunged back into his mission, sliding the palm up and down the top of Omi's thigh while the other kept him pinned.  They broke away again, Ken nuzzling the side of his face down to his neck, latching on and sucking hard.  Omi withdrew a hand from Ken's shirt and wrapped it around his shoulders, bringing him closer.  Ken placed both hands on the blonde's hips, sucking harder at his neck.  The Goth gasped, breathing harder as the second flew by, hooking his other arm around Ken's waist.

"What are you two doing?"

Omi started, surprised by the voice and a bright light shining into his face from the side.  Ken jerked away, facing the speaker.

"Huh?"

A/N: Huh indeed!  I FINISHED!!!  I'M SO FREAKING HAPPY!  Your reviews made it all possible.  Anyway... One of you actually recognized last chapter as a dream sequence.  Point for you! Some people wanted a make out session, but I'm really bad at it, and when I do write anything about sex (no matter how far from it what I write is) I turn it into a joke.  With lots of stupidity.  I'm good at stupidity.  Um... someone asked me what the hell's Indie Rock...  THANK YOU!  I have no idea.  Heard about it, most likely know it, but... why is it that people make so many freaking labels for music?  So many new terms...

So... uh...  help this moron... (me) and tell me what Indie Rock is...?  Someone said Linkin Park.  Okay.  He'll like Linkin Park as well.

Anyway.  Thanks for the wonderful, colorful opinions.  You are a unique bunch, I can tell you that.  And thanks for liking the Goth Omi.  Isn't he lovely?

PS Sorry for the delay.  Here's all my excuses – Writers block, house caught on fire, got sick, got lazy, got FFX-2.  All of them are true.  I'm debating which is more exciting.. getting X-2 or my house catching on fire.  (don't worry, house is okay...)

MERRY LATE X-MAS!


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: The Collective Mind claims that it's all your fault, so don't bother.  Whatever it is, don't bother.  I've been getting drunk lately and strung out and generally been contemplating putting everyone out of their misery (and then promptly suffering from a mood swing like no other and everything's suddenly sunshine and puppies).  Seriously, though – what good is life when you hate home, you hate school, and you secretly want to kill all your friends?  AND THE INTERNET AND MUSIC AND VIDEO GAMES (not even yaoi!!! O_o) AREN'T HELPING!?  You get over it, that's what.  Or you get drunk, which is what I've been doing.  I found out that I write poetry when I'm drunk.  Hm.  This is too long as it is.  Anyway, Omi's pretty much... completely lost it.  If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take over the Matrix.  I know it's here, somewhere.

Such Great Heights

By Some Drunk Chick (Ayanagami)

~

_That frankly would not fly_

_You'll hear the shrill highs_

_And the lowest lows_

_With the windows down_

_When this guiding you home_

-Such Great Heights, Sixth Verse, by Postal Service

~

Omi walked through the front door with his shoulders sagging and a very, very angry look on his face.  Yohji sprang up from the couch, eyes wide and a question flying into the air before the Goth was able to recalibrate himself in his new surroundings.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Omi glared.

Yohji made a face, but managed to keep quiet, waiting.

Omi kept glaring.

Yohji twitched a little.

Omi glared some more.

Yohji shifted his eyes, a little uncomfortable.

Omi stopped glaring, or maybe failed in his glaring, when tears began to well up in his eyes.  In a choked voice, he managed to get out, "I made out with Ken in a Janitor's closet."

"Into public places, now are you?"  Yohji retorted before he could get a grip of himself.  Omi sobbed and ran past him, whining something like 'I hate you and I hate my life!' followed shortly by a long stream of not very believable cuss-words, being poorly and half-heartedly said.  None were directed at a particular person other than life in general.  And Ken.

Yohji was left standing between the stairs and the front door, with a 'I really fucked up this time' look etched across his face.  He coughed, then called, a little tentatively, "I'm sorry..."

Omi screamed and the taller blond heard a thunk, probably something heavy coming into contact with the wall, come from the Goth boy's room.  Then it was quiet.

"... Guess I better think up an excuse for Omi tomorrow for school..."

*

He really wanted... to die.  Just curl up into a little tiny ball like a hamster and kick the bucket.  Omi figured he'd kick it pretty hard.  Then he figured he'd screw that up, too.  Maybe he'd kick the bucket so hard he'd dent it.  Ruin it for all the other bucket-kickers.  What the hell was he doing thinking of the bucket as an actual object?  Maybe his brain was addled...  If it was, he'd find a way to blame Ken for it.

After all, it was Ken's fault that the entire thing happened, right?  Being clumsy and all... well, maybe that was genetics' fault...  and why the hell was Ken so clumsy if he was a soccer player?  Probably wasn't a very good one.  Which was why the coach had made Ken come over to help Omi with the soccer ball... which Omi kicked into Ken's head...  Come to think of it, why was Omi's first reaction usually violence?  Eh, he'd blame it on Ken, too.

The more he thought about all the things he could blame Ken for, the better he felt.  On the inside, that is.

Because, on the outside, he had just fallen off his bed, resulting in a loud thunking noise and a nasty headache.  He blamed that on Ken, too.

Getting to his feet and staggering over to the computer, Omi hoped Nagi was online.

He booted up the computer and logged on immediately, homing in on Nagi's screen name like administrators on students doing bad things.

Bombay:  Ahhhh!!!!

PerpetualDark:  I take it the Janitor found you.

Bombay:  ...... YOU told him where to find us, didn't you!!??

PerpetualDark:  Yup... What's up?

Bombay:  Me... Ken...  I... He...  

Omi paused to sputter for a long moment, not quite sure how to explain what had happened.

PerpetualDark:  Stop sputtering and spit it out.  Or, I could guess.

Bombay:  I just know that you'd get it right, too, with your luck.

PerpetualDark:  Who said anything about luck?

Bombay:  O_o''

PerpetualDark:  So, I'm just going to assume that you and Ken got it on.

Having been caught, Omi took advantage of the situation and started... venting.

Bombay:  AAAAARRRGH!  _'''  I can't believe this!  I can't BELIEVE that I would actually start making out with that stupid Jock!  

PerpetualDark:  That stupid jock you happen to think is really good looking...

Bombay:  Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid freaking Jock from hell trying to take advantage of me in the dark and shut UP, Nagi!

Omi scowled fiercely at the screen.

Bombay:  You're supposed to be my best friend – what the hell is this?  It's like mutiny!

PerpetualDark:  One, I -am- your best friend – best friends are generally supposed to get on one's nerves, be brutally honest and know one inside out.  Two – stop making that face, Omi, and, three, it's actually a conspiracy, not a mutiny.

Omi stopped making 'that face,' instead scowling again.

Bombay:  _'

PerpetualDark:  I don't see why you're so flustered about this – besides the obvious reasons that it's _you_ we're talking about, here – because I can see you like him.

Bombay:  Do not.  -_-'

PerpetualDark:  Say that to my face.

Bombay:  :says it to Nagi's face:  DO NOT!

PerpetualDark:  You're such a bad liar.  ~_~

Bombay:  .... Go to hell!  

Omi logged off, frustrated, and with a new thought to mull over as he turned the computer off.  While that didn't solve anything, he had to wonder if he really did like Ken.

No.

There!  All settled!  Heh, heh... but now he was going to go take a cold shower.

(O_o')

*

(This is where everything gets pretty much weird.  And Omi goes crazy!  ^_^''')

Just so you know, daytime television _was_ daytime television for a reason.  Omi didn't have a specific reason... at least, not one that didn't sound like variations of 'because it sucks,' but he _did_ have a theory, involving eccentric housewives, a vast conspiracy, and soccer fanatics.

Damn the soccer fanatics.

While on the subject...  Omi decided that while soccer players might not have the complete 'shit-for-brains' thing going on with them, they had a certain 'brainless' quality about their person.  Particularly a certain moose singing soccer player, who made everything go from bad to worse when he was around – seriously, though, every time he was around Ken, crazy things happened.  From the fight in the coffee shop to making out in the closet.  But, it was all Ken's fault, anyway.

Omi, for his part, had stayed home today, refusing to be anywhere near the school if it was the last thing he managed not to do.  Yohji informed him this was silly, then left for work, leaving Omi to the mercy of the aforementioned daytime television.  He watched from his position against the wall, shunning the couch because he could and it was something to do.  A part of him was slightly worried about this, though the rest of him accepted it fairly easy, and even took part in the shunning.

Anyway, back to the TV.  He'd done some channel surfing, trying hard not to think of school, or, more specifically, a certain person who was most likely in school, and found that nothing was interesting.  Big whoop.  Neither Yohji nor him watched much TV, so it wasn't like they had cable.  And, it was a theory of Omi's that if, in thirteen channels, you couldn't find something interesting, then it wasn't likely you could find anything interesting in one hundred and thirteen channels.

The Spanish channel was rather amusing, since he could actually understand a few words in the bad soap opera that played out before him.  He entertained himself for ten minutes or so making up absurd plotlines and reasons why that girl was yelling at that boy, and why that woman was crying in the middle of the cafe, or even why one of the character's rooms looked like a kindergartener's classroom.  However, the pastime soon became boring, if not downright sad, and he changed the station again.  But there was nothing _on_!

Omi let his mind wander as the TV went on obliviously, spitting out commercial after commercial; about cars, cereal, cleaners and cell phones, images flickering chaotically on the screen.  Omi wasn't paying attention as a ferret bit the guy on the screen – he was in his own little world by that time.  Of course, his world was run by his logic....

_Maybe I should start home schooling_...  He wondered, unconsciously chewing on his thumbnail.  _Hell, maybe I should drop out – I'm eighteen_; _I don't have to go to school anymore_.  _Not like I really need it, anyway – after all, I write computer programs; I support myself perfectly fine_. _In fact, maybe I should just stop leaving the house completely_.  _Yeah, that's it, just make Yohji do my junk food shopping for me, and I'll never have to have any human contact again for the rest of my life – that'll work_.  _Everyone's against me, anyway_...  _Even Yohji, the bastard_!  _How the hell did he meet Ken, anyway_?!  _I bet he was at a strip club or something_.  _But what would Ken be doing at a strip club_?  _Hell,_ _why_ are _there strips clubs in the first place, anyway_?  Omi started racking his brain to produce answers to these questions – actually, he was trying to make up reasons behind his half crazed logic... and it wasn't helping that he was starting to rock back and forth.  

It went on like this for a while, with Omi ranting on and on about everyone being against him and the meaning of strip clubs and somehow making it all Ken's fault all while trying really hard not to remember how the Jock smelled, or tasted, or felt, or sounded, or....

Omi screamed and jumped up, eyes blazing and brain addled.  "I hate my life!"  He shrieked to no one in particular, clutching his hair and tugging on it like a lifeline.  Mind frazzled and nerves screwed to hell, he ran to the door, swung it open, and screamed for the entire neighborhood to hear, "I fucking HATE MY LIFE!!!!"

A delinquent on the other side of the street lifted his head as he sat on the curb, and answered back, "So do I."

*

Omi found himself at an impasse throughout that day.  First, he had nothing to do.  Second, anything he thought of doing involved going outside.  Last, he hated people and wished the sky would rain acid and make them all melt away.  Now, he could play video games, but he just couldn't concentrate and killing people mindlessly needed a great deal of thought and effort, so he checked that off his list.  He played his music loud, and that made him slightly happy, but he needed something to _do_.  (Me too – I can play my music loud, but I still need something to occupy my hands with.  Otherwise I start rocking back and forth....)

His brain kicked in sometime near the afternoon.  He was in front of the fridge, trying to blow up its contents with his eyes, and not entirely successful, when he just happened to glance at the microwave, and remember, in passing, what a friend had told him once.  Something about raw eggs and microwaves not mixing.  Blinking, he snatched up an egg and wandered over to the seemingly innocent kitchen appliance.  With a great lack of ceremony, the Gothic boy placed the egg in the center of the thing, then turned it on high for a minute.  A strange, giddy feeling filled his stomach, along with an odd sensation of nervousness – without really being able to explain it, the blond crawled under the table and sort of just sat there, facing the rest of the kitchen.  His feeling of unease grew to downright anxiety and he began to twiddle his fingers, wondering what was supposed to ha-

There was a great, yet soft, thwoping noise, like a muffled semi-boom, as the microwave door was flung open and cooked egg pieces flew everywhere, splattering the floor and walls.  Omi screamed, at first startled, then he began to laugh with a glittering look in his eyes.  He really shouldn't be left alone anymore.

*

A few hours and a sample of everything the kitchen had to offer later, Yohji walked through the door, completely tired and not ready for the sight that greeted him in the kitchen.  There... was food everywhere.  _Every_where.  It was caked onto the cupboards, smeared over the floor and it clung to the walls like parasites.  The reason for the mess was grinning at nothing in particular, situated under the table as he had been for the duration of the explosion spree.  Yohji gulped and backed out of the room, fumbling mentally to remember Nagi's phone number and trying not to be noticed by his mentally disturbed roommate.

*

"You walked in on him like this?"  The pale, silent boy asked Yohji, eyes on the Goth under the table.  Yohji grunted nervously in affirmation, also staring at crazy Omi.  Nagi was quiet, watching the scene before him with a blank look on his face.

"So... uh... do you know what's wrong with him?"

"Yeah."  Nagi said, simply, and turned to walk towards the door.  Yohji ran to catch up with him.

"Hey!  Wait, where are you going?"

"I'll be back, don't worry.  Don't talk to him."

*

Well, Nagi came back, and that made him not a liar.  However, something about his blank face gave Yohji a bad feeling, and the blond man inched away from the kitchen, a sudden knowledge that something bad was going to happen...

He heard Nagi's voice, but not his words.  Something akin to a strangled cat sound came from the kitchen, followed closely by Nagi coming bolting from the room and out the door into the outside world.  Omi followed mindlessly, eyes flashing in a crazed blood lust as he screamed, "I AM NOT IN LOVE, YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"

Yohji blinked, wide eyed.  Omi was in love?  It hit him, then – Omi was in love with Ken.

He sure had a weird way of showing it, though.

Yohji winced as he heard Omi unleash a bloodcurdling scream.  

A very weird way of showing it.

*

Omi didn't get far.  

Nagi had walked into that kitchen with a plan – sure, it was an oddly cruel one, but a plan nonetheless.  Well, anyway, it wasn't like he was going to risk his life running through town with a not-in-his-right-mind-Omi chasing after him.  So, when he ran out the door, it was definitely a part of his plan...

He dodged to the side and watched as Omi scrambled out the door and staggered right into a surprised Ken.  If he didn't value his life, he might have snickered.  

*

He froze as he recognized the chest he just ran into – he started trembling when he recognized the scent, and when he finally looked up, he was ready to run up to his room and commit suicide.  Yup.  Ken was somehow located on his lawn, thanks to no small part by Nagi, and, yup, he was currently touching his obse- er... the jock.  He yelped and leapt back, his gaze inexplicably locked with Ken's – he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.  

_Omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod, omigodomigodomigodomigod_!!!!!!!!!!  Was all his brain could think of.  Priceless, really.

Then, with a burst of will, he bolted back into the house, up the stairs, and locked himself in his room, right and secure.  "I....  I am going to _fucking kill_ Nagi!"  He declared to himself as he sat against his door, heart pounding like something else.  He started shivering as he noticed the absence of warmth where his chest had touched Ken's...

Tears started sliding down his cheeks.  He had never been so embarrassed in his life... and all by _one_ person.  He just wanted to die.  Sink down and die.  For once, he didn't dilute these thoughts with crazy logic – instead, he just felt his skin grow cold and his insides ache.  His muscles felt weak and his brain practically dead from exhaustion.  He hung his head in despair, the feel of his tears against his hot cheeks odd as he sunk deeper and deeper.  He didn't see much of a point to anything, now.  He couldn't even reason out his feelings, this time, only that it was how he felt.  He knew it was stupid, and childish, but his feelings were what they were.

That's just how it was.

*

Yohji poked his head out the door to blink owlishly at Nagi, who looked at Ken, then acknowledged the blond man's presence.

"Has Omi been replaced by a banshee?"  He asked, referring to all the screaming the boy had been doing lately.

Nagi shook his head and lead Ken inside.

*

_They're out there, waiting for me to come out_... Omi thought to himself, eyes narrowed and anger growing.  His tears had finally dried on his cheeks; he wasn't quite so upset now... but... he _was_ becoming unhinged.  _But I won't come out_... _Oh, no, they won't win_.  _I'll stay RIGHT HERE for the REST OF MY LIFE if I have to_.  _I will somehow never get hungry again, never have to go to the bathroom, and I'll never have to sleep_.  _I will remain vigilant right here, and never talk to anyone ever again_.  _I don't have to_.  _They can't make me_.  _None of this is real – we're in the Matrix, and they're Agents_.  _Or maybe they're aliens and they've decided to abduct me or experiment on me_...

He was startled out of his thoughts at the sound of a knock on the door at his back.  He jumped a bit, then froze.  _The aliens are trying to get me_!

"Omi?"  It was Nagi.

_What do you want, Alien_?  Omi said in his head.  He was very aware of the fact that aliens had the ability to read minds.

"Omi, I know you can hear me."  Nagi persisted.

_Same to you, extraterrestrial bastard_.  He practically muttered in his brain.  Then something occurred to him; if the aliens couldn't get to him, then they might look for another victim...  The whole world was in danger!  He scrambled up and looked around frantically... looking for a weapon.  He heard someone mutter on the other side of the door, "What the hell is he doing?"

His suspicions were confirmed when Nagi replied, "He's probably looking for something he can save Earth with."

"W-what?"

He could almost see Nagi shrugging nonchalantly.  "Right now, his brain is saying to him that we're a threat to him and the rest of the world – maybe we're mutants, or vampires, or aliens or government spies from the underworld."  Nagi added, "Omi thinks lawyers are Satan's right hand."

"....um... then... what do we do?"

"Bust through the door and be very careful.  Omi might have found something lethal."

Someone sighed.  It was probably Ken, Omi realized and he caught sight of the window.  Well, if he couldn't kill the alien bastards now, he could at least warn someone who could help.  But then he paused on his first step.  What if whoever he warned was an alien, too?  No!  He'd be able to tell.  He dashed over to the window and flung it open; he was halfway out when arms wrapped around him and began pulling him back.  He panicked and tried to kick out, but his legs were already tucked against his attackers body – it was Ken – Nagi was much smaller.  

"No!  I can't let you alien bastards take me alive!  You'll never take over the world!  You can't have me!  AHHH!"  Omi thrashed around as much as he could, but it was all in vain – Ken held Omi tightly and securely.  And Omi wasn't at all happy about it.  "You aliens think you can do anything!  That no one will stop you!  Well, I promise you that I'll stop you, no matter what!  And even if you kill me... someone else will discover you!  It's only a matter of time, you'll never take earth.  All those abductions of stupid farmers are worth nothing.  Not all humans are that dumb.  Some are dumber!  We'll nuke you bastards – I bet we have lasers and junk like that that the government isn't telling us cause they know that you want the information.  It's because of YOU that the government lies to us.  THERE IS AN AREA 51!  I know it!  They can't hide it forever, not with you here.  I'll uncover you for what you really are an-"

"Oh my God...  Shut UP."  Ken covered his mouth with his hand and they tumbled onto Omi's bed, Ken landing on top.  The blond glowered and continued in his endeavor to escape.  Didn't get him anywhere, though.

Vaguely, Omi heard Nagi's voice – he made out the words 'keep' and 'restrained' but that about summed it up.  Then he heard Ken protest, saying, "What the hell do you expect me to do?"

Nagi replied with, "You're not stupid."  Omi pondered for a moment if Ken's blatant stupidity was only a ruse, to disguise his alien nature...  Since he didn't hear the voice of his supposed 'friend', he assumed he had left the room.  _Probably to go brainwash some random innocent bystander into becoming a minion of their Cult of the Underworld_.  The Goth thought absentmindedly to himself, still trying to get free.  A small part of him realized it was useless, but the rest of him went on in the futile struggle – he was especially vehement on account that Ken had his hand over his mouth.  Eventually, though, his seemingly insanely endless energy ran out and his jerks were becoming weaker, until, finally, his body went limp, and he lay, tired, in Ken's arms.

"Are you done?"  Ken asked, one eyebrow raised.

Since Ken didn't lift his hand so he could respond, Omi settled for a hateful glare and a halfhearted jerk of his body.  No, he certainly was _not_ done.  Ken sighed and removed his hand, draping his arm across Omi's chest.

"You're psycho."  Ken deadpanned.  It was almost as if it were merely a passing observation.

"Look who's talking, Mr. _Alien_."  Omi pointed out resentfully – both at being called psycho, and at being restrained.

"I'm not an alien."

"That's what they all say."

"..."  Ken thought for a moment, then closed his eyes.  "You know, in all the time I've known you, you have _never_ made any sense.  Not in what you say, not in was you do – nothing.  You've been neurotic ever since I met you in the coffee shop, and you haven't detoured from that path once.  Not _once_.  From screaming at me because I said you smelled nice, to shoving whip cream in my mouth, to giving me a concussion with a soccer ball, to avoiding me like the plague for no reason, and then making out with me in a janitors closet, and now you're back to thinking I'm the antichrist or something."  Ken paused, opening his eyes, and looked down at Omi, who was watching him cautiously.  "Despite all that, I like you.  Even when you're stark raving mad, I like you."

"This is just another alien ploy!"  Omi blurted out, "You can't fool me!"

Ken shrugged, then smirked, pulling Omi up and covering the blonde's mouth with his own.  They parted, Omi's eyes slightly glazed as Ken said, "Can't pull anything past you."  He looked as if we were deliberating something, with a thoughtful expression slapped across his face.  He glanced back down at Omi, and the smile found it's way back to his lips again.  "The Collective Mind of the Galactic Domination Committee thinks I should kiss you again.  The Collective Mind likes it."

And Ken did just that.

End Notes:  I hope you didn't expect much from me – after all, I DID warn you that I was drunk.  Whatever.  And I have no idea if Ken's music preference is even going to be mentioned.  I'm stopping this story in a few chapters.  I think I have the last chorus, and then it's kaput.  

I just want to take this moment to thank everyone who's slipped a review to me.  My life has no meaning, and a simple little review isn't going to make me realize, all of a sudden, that I'm worth something.  But it helps delude myself for a while, and distracts me.  Anyway – thanks for your time and patience.  I am not worthy.  ('Sides, I'm working on a million other things as well... which is why it always takes so long (that and I lack motivation of any kind...o_o))  Also, check out my Bio for an address to a forum I'm on.  No, it's not cause you read my stuff.  It's cause I promised I'd advertise everywhere possible.  Be warned, though – I'm a mod there.

Til next time... somewhere in 2005... (hopefully sooner) 

-Aya (Hey anyone got some alcohol?)


	8. The End

Author's Notes: OMFG. I'm done. :) This… is my present to you for New Years Day. I feel bad about leaving this story to rot for such a long time. But I'm pretty happy with the ending. Kinda short… more notes at the end. _This was re-uploaded when I found a glaring error. Sorry!_

Such GreatHeights

By A.S. Annik.

Or Ayanagami, to most of you.

_'They will see us waving from such great heights_

_"Come down, now" They'll say_

_But everything looks perfect from far away_

_"Come down, now" But we'll stay'_

- Such Great Heights, Chorus, by Postal Service

**Nine Months Later**

"Oh, god, Omi, wake the fuck up."

Omi, for his part, was inventorying his stock of deadly weapons. The gutted alarm clock didn't count, seeing as how the poor thing, or what was left of it, was smashed against the wall, internal wiring strewn about in a seemingly malicious, cold blooded, and entirely too common alarm clock murder. Omi did _not_ like waking up.

"OMI! WAKE _UP_! Last day of school, kid! No more waking up after this!"

Omi, for his part, had decided on his computer monitor. It was heavy, and when flung at another person's head, generally hurt like a bitch. It was just right for the owner of the voice that insisted he wake up god knows when just to go to school. A little part, hidden inside Omi and quite awake at the time, was very smug about the fact that _his_ last day was three days earlier than that of lower classmen. That part of Omi was giving the world the finger gleefully. All the rest of him was plotting murder.

"……… Omi. I made coffee."

Omi was down the stairs and sitting at the kitchen table in record time, gesturing groggily for a cup of bitter caffeine water.

He stared blearily into the mug he was given, as if still trying to collect where he was, who he was, and why his stomach was growling. It was almost as if everything was against him… but, then again, everything _was_ against him, like it or not. His 'friends' could say whatever they wanted, but he knew the truth, and he was holding onto it like a dog with a lock jaw holding onto a mailman's left leg.

_Dear Body_.

_You are the worst roommate ever_.

_And I hate you_.

_Love, Brain_.

"Fucking hate mornings."

-

Omi was growling loudly and cussing under his breath, sending the glare of death to anyone who chanced to look his way as he stood in the hallway.

Ken cast a sideways glance at him, arching a brow.

"Why, if today is the last day, am I being forced to go to Gym?"

Ken smiled blithely. "We get to play soccer today."

Omi blinked. Oh, yeah… Ken's unhealthy obsession with soccer and Omi's secret worst enemy.

For some reason he had the feeling that things weren't going to be happy in Gym land that day.

The blond sighed and shifted his weight to his other foot restlessly, sliding a look to the boy who stood beside him, smiling obliviously. No matter where he ran to hide, no matter what he said, or how desperately he fought, he always found himself in the same situation. He hated it.

"I hate it."

The other boy turned his near-mindless smile on him. "Lighten up, Omi. It's not so bad…."

"Yes. It is. It's bad. It's worse than bad. It's…. EVIL."

Ken frowned slightly.

"You're over-reacting. What's the worst that could happen? It's just _soccer_."

"Need I remind you that I nearly bashed your brains in during 'just soccer'?"

"… yeah, so what? You gave me a concussion. It won't happen this time… you're not deathly afraid of me any more."

"I was NEVER deathly afraid of you!"

"Okay." Ken shrugged, then smirked. "You just thought I was an alien bent on world domination and practically ran screaming ever time my name was mentioned."

Omi hmphed and crossed his arms over his chest, but gave up.

_Just soccer, you say. It's _never_ **just** soccer…_.

-

There was a pause and a collective hush.

"Holy fuck, he beamed the Coach!"

It was _never_ **just** soccer.

The warm bodies that made up fifth period Gym gathered around said coach, who was flat on his back, making guttural noises whilst his hands groped around dumbly for something to hold on to – something only drunk people did. Or people who've been knocked unconscious by the ball of death.

Omi looked around nervously, blue eyes wide as he shuffled his feet and fiddled with the hem of his gym shirt that was sizes too large for him.

Fuck. Why did these things always happen to him? Although it _had_ felt pretty good to knock the coach to the ground with a flying ball of doom… That'd teach the man to bark out orders to Omi.

Still.

Why him?

Panting, Ken trotted to his side, loose gym uniform slightly damp from sweat, placing his hand on the Goth's shoulder before actually seeing the scene set out before him.

It seemed that Omi had struck again.

For a moment, both boys just looked at each other.

As one, they turned and took off across the field, their main goal being to get as much distance between them and the incapacitated coach.

-

Out on the front steps of school, the two sat side by side – Omi had curled his arm around his back pack by his side while Ken just dropped it a few steps below them. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since they took their places, instead watching the occasional car make its way past.

"So…." Ken titled his head slightly to Omi, not quite looking at him. He was smiling. "You did it again."

"…" Omi was silent for a moment. "You shut up."

Ken just smiled. "At least it wasn't me this time."

"…"

_I hate today_.

There was a beat as Omi glared death at the steps beneath him.

"… Is that Sara Lee?" Ken pointed to the side to a girl in a yuppie cheerleader's uniform as she rounded the corner of the building.

Omi glanced up, then groaned and hung his head between his knees. "Unfortunately, yes, it is."

It was clear the Goth wasn't going to avoid an encounter with the cheerleader as she caught sight of him and moved closer, ready to verbally assault him. As she stepped into a position just out from under the awning, and was about to open her mouth, there was a shout and a verifiable waterfall of questionable water fell upon her, drenching her uniform and uncurling her hair. Her makeup ran down her face, making it look like a garish mask meant to inspire fear in the hearts of the little ones.

Omi tentatively poked his head out from under the awning and glanced up, blinking as Nagi's face greeted him from the roof.

"Oops. Sorry, Sara, didn't check to see if anyone was down there." The dark eyes boy gave a smile that looked suspiciously like a blank smirk as the blond girl gaped at him like an indignant fish out of water.

All three boys watched silently as she stiffly brushed past the two on the steps and through the double doors into the school.

There was a pause as Omi moved out from under the awning to stare up at Nagi. "Did God send you?"

"… Sure." Nagi replied deadpan, then cocked an eyebrow down at his best friend. "I'd better get back to class, though. I was just supposed to get rid of the used water from the aquarium."

With a wave, Nagi swept the bucket up and left the two boys to their own devices.

Ken was the first to speak up. "… Nagi poured _fish water_ on Sara?"

Omi sniggered, then sniffed the air and grinned. "Seems like it."

"… What was he doing on the roof?"

"What do you think? Looking for someone to pour it on, obviously."

They were interrupted by a long, drawn out shriek echoing vaguely through the school halls and passing, albeit a bit muffled, through the double doors. "_THERE'S A DEAD **FISH** ON ME_!!!"

The two boys stared at each other. After a moment, Ken smirked and Omi cracked a malicious grin. "Remind me to get Nagi something _really great_ for his birthday."

"Heh, sure. So. What do we do now?"

Omi rolled his eyes and went to take his place again, arm immediately recurling around his bag. "We should just ditch. Go somewhere. I'm not going to go back to class." He paused before adding, "Besides, hanging out with you is better, anyway."

Ken grinned out at the passing cars, then stood up. "Or…"

Omi groaned loudly and tried to stick his head in his backpack

"Young man! There's no need to feel down, I said, young man! Pick yourself off the ground! I said young man, cause you're in a new town! There no need – to – feel – un – happy!"

A few students with free period, or were just skipping like themselves, passed by, eyes wide as Ken smiled and waved at them, not even pausing in his rendition of the YMCA. One of them laughed and waved back.

As for Omi, he was wondering why he even got out of bed – after all, there wasn't much to look forward to. His boyfriend was psychotic, there was nothing to do in any of his classes and he generally just didn't like getting up in the first place, anyway. The muffled sound of Ken's singing paused and, hesitantly, the Goth peered out from inside his backpack.

"It's fun to stay at the Y – M – C – A!"

Who would have thought Ken Hidaka liked disco?

"They have ev-er-y thing for young men to enjoy! You can hang out with all the boys!"

"Okay! Okay, enough! I was wrong… you're not an alien… You're a fucking Disco Nazi!" Ken smiled brightly.

"Disco Nazi? Why does that remind me of Oreos?"

"Don't ask me…. Let's get out of here…" Omi made a face and scooped up his backpack, flinging it over his shoulder as they walked away from the front of the school, not even bothering to give it one last look.

"Want to know what else it reminds me of?"

"What?"

"The YMCA."

-

"Fire in the disco!"

"SHUT UP."

"… Make me."

Omi glared at the singing jock as they rounded the corner, ending up a block away from his house. "Was that a challenge?"

"Yes, I think it was." Ken smiled indulgently down at the Goth, who took a few moments to mull over said challenge in his mind. In the meantime, he continued to sing. "Don't you wanna know how we keep starting fires? It's my desire! Danger, danger! High voltage! When we touch! When we-"

Growling, Omi stopped and dropped his backpack onto the sidewalk beside him, reaching up to quickly pull Ken down by his shirt and effectively silencing him with his mouth. It was blessedly silent for a few moments as the two occupied one another, but it ended once they pulled away.

"-kiss." Ken adopted a lopsided grin as he stared down at the smaller boy. "I love how that seems to be your answer to everything."

Omi glared. "Not true."

"Oh, it's true. Remember that one time in the assembly I kept asking questions and talking?"

Omi glared again. "Okay, that's one. And it was a viable action. I kept telling you to shut up, but you wouldn't listen."

"But we got detention for sucking face while the principle was talking."

"Wouldn't have happened if you had STOPPED. TALKING."

Ken shrugged, then continued. "And what about that time during lunch when you had a head ache and I kept humming?"

He rolled his eyes. "I had a HEAD ACHE. You were HUMMING. Nagi obviously wasn't going to do anything."

"Mm-hm. Well, there was also the time I kept stealing your mint candies."

"YOU WERE STEALING MY FUCKING CANDY!!!!"

"Yes, but did you have to use your mouth to retrieve them?"

"… Yes."

It was Ken's turn to roll his eyes, but he smiled as he did so. "Did you ever wonder why I did all those things?"

"… you're insane?"

"No." He smirked and leaned down closer to murmur into the blonde's ear. "It was the only way to get you to kiss me."

Omi blinked, his eyes wide as he stared at the groove of Ken's collar bone through his grey shirt. Without warning, he began to laugh. Unseen, Ken smiled again, watching the Goth's blond hair ruffle as he shook his head.

Still chuckling, Omi glanced up to the Jock's neck, gaze sliding up to his jaw, then let his lips follow, pressing small kisses against the taller boy's skin. Ken tilted his head in and caught the last kiss on his lips, smiling into it. Pulling back, Omi smiled as well. "You're clever for a jock."

"Mm-hm. I try."

Omi kissed him again.

It was then, though, that someone cleared their throat.

Separating hastily, the two boys looked guiltily to the side at the person who had intruded.

Then Omi realized that they had stopped in front of his own house.

"You two done yet?" Yohji sniggered, leaning against the door frame and watching the younger boys with an amused expression. Omi glowered and Ken smiled.

"Shut up, Yohji. You prick."

"Hey, Yohji. What's up?"

The tall blonde merely laughed and turned to retreat back into the house.

For a moment the two said nothing and neither moved. Then Ken leaned in and placed a small kiss above Omi's left eyebrow and reached down to sweep the blonde's backpack up as he went to follow Yohji into the house.

Sighing, Omi was about to follow when he paused, something catching his eye.

Narrowing his eyes, he looked closer at the hedges near the side of the house, swearing there had been a flash of red somewhere amongst them. He waited for a moment, then decided it had been nothing.

"I… _like_ today." He shook his head and entered the house.

A tall red head pushed his way out of the hedges and glowered at the front door, amethyst eyes flashing in annoyance.

"Goddamn kids."

**The End**

Everything looks perfect from far away

End Notes: So. There it is. The end. And since I've never liked endings, because they make me feel lonely, I left it rather open. Like AWM's ending. And, look. Ken likes disco. And he's smart?

Music Notes: I happen to love those songs mentioned. And I'd like to note that I do not own the _YMCA_, but I have a friend who claims to be one of the Village People. Electric Six owns _Danger! (High Voltage)._ And, of course, The Postal Service owns _Such Great Heights_. If anyone likes that song, check out others by them. I recommend _Brand New Colony_, _Natural Anthem_, and _District Sleeps Alone Tonight_. Also, check out Death Cab for Cutie. They're the indie band The Postal Service comes from. Not many people know that….

Reviews:

**Grasshopper**: I barely have any brain cells left, either. Let's start a club. Ps, you're the reason I updated. You reminded me this story needed to be written and finished.

**Left Sock**: Somehow, Ken's taste in music had a big part to play. I didn't mean it to. Yes, look, there's Aya. And the egg I cooked did exactly what Omi's did. I think it's because the microwave door sucked ass. Somehow I got the microwave to spark while I was boiling water. I loved your review. And I love your name. One day, you will find the other sock.

**Anna-chan2**: Oh, but getting drunk IS fun! Swear.

**Ravensta692003**: Don't we all?

**Neechi**:

**Yuranda**: Yeah…. Thanks. Omi was a little insane… And he's still a little insane. But Ken caught up. And it was pretty sweet. And Nagi did something funny. Go Nagi.

**Neko****-Ice-Queen**: Hey, faces to you, too!

**Harmonie**** Des Anges**: I nearly danced when I got a review from you. I think I did, actually. And yeah, Nagi is just cool like that. Much love and happiness for you.

**Rini-sama**: Omi is stark raving mad? No, I think he had a mental break –BOOT TO THE GUT TO THE MIND- I don't think you'll be accusing Omi or Ken or Nagi of anything any time soon… .

**SeventeenthAngelOfTheSixthHour**: You sound like my mother.

**bombay229**: .. email you? Sure. Glad you like. I like, too. And I'm done! I like even more!

**Raiyenchan**: I agree. Omi had one weird dream… And I also agree about the screaming out the door thing… I was laughing when I wrote that.

**Thirteen Black Roses**: The Collective Mind is a whore.

**Violettegal345**: Nagi. Yup, Nagi. He rocks, don't he?

**Autum**: Thank YOU. I love that song.

All bow to **Volpa**, who suggested disco in the first place! I don't think the disco I picked out was what they had in mind…

Also thanks to….

**Little Fox Kit, Craw/Brad, balletanimerose, vampyreice, Yumi-Takekawa, kat, Lady DeathAngel, mimi-chan, White-Winged-Sihde, BlueIce, aionwatha, Minerva Teller of tales, Earwen Tiwele, Shannan, Kenzan, Ambika-san, Kay B. Toyas, Bisexual Pygmy, Felflowne, Fei, OMIKENKUN!!, Maxwell-chan, Eclipse, Hana no Ceres, chickens must die..., mishgurl, littlefreeze, Sky Rat, esaure, Leanie, Riisha, The-Great-Poptart, Sparda (Demon who is far too lazy.), LilPurplFlwr, Cathy Barton, Ryuuen Chou, Involuntary-black-sheep, Tainted Halo, Diamondeye, AquaianGoddess, LingLKS,** AND I GIVE UP ON THE REST. FUCK.

Thanks for sticking with me, abandoning me, suddenly coming across this story, etc.

It was fun. **Happy New Year**!


End file.
